The Codex burned against my chest like a brand.
Not from heat. Not from magic. From truth. It sat heavy beneath my cloak, its weight pressing into my ribs with every breath, every heartbeat, every step through the winding corridors back to the suite. The words still echoed in my skull—You are remembered—a whisper from a past I couldn’t recall, a life I’d never lived, and yet… I knew it. In my bones. In my blood. In the way my body arched toward Kaelen’s like it had been starved for centuries.
And now—
Another truth waited.
Riven sat by the hearth when we returned, his staff propped beside him, his face shadowed in the low light. He didn’t speak. Just looked up as we entered, his eyes locking onto the bulge beneath my cloak. He didn’t need to ask.
“You found it,” he said, voice rough.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I stepped forward and placed the Codex on the war table, the black leather cover gleaming faintly in the torchlight. The runes along its spine pulsed once, then stilled.
Kaelen stood behind me, his presence like a storm contained. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. But I felt him—his heat, his breath, the way his gaze burned into the back of my neck. The bond hummed between us, not with the feverish need of before, but with something deeper. Older. Remembered.
“What now?” Riven asked.
“Now we prepare,” I said, voice low. “If this is proof, then we use it. We expose Vexis. We break the Covenant. We end this.”
“And if it’s not enough?”
“Then we burn the Council to the ground.”
Riven didn’t flinch. Just exhaled, slow and pained. “You’re not ready for that war.”
“I don’t have to be.” I turned to him. “I just have to win.”
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Then you’ll need more than proof.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, silver locket—oval, tarnished, its chain broken. He placed it on the table with trembling fingers.
My breath caught.
Not from recognition.
From memory.
I’d seen it before. Not in this life. Not in this body. But in the dreams. In the flashes behind my eyes when the bond flared too bright. A woman’s hands—slender, pale—fastening it around a child’s neck. A whisper: Keep it safe. It’s all I have to give you.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“From him,” Riven said.
My pulse spiked.
“From who?”
“Your father.”
The room stopped.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Stopped. The torches froze mid-flicker. The wind died. The moonlight hung in the air like dust.
“He’s dead,” I said, voice flat. “They burned him with my mother.”
“They tried.” Riven’s eyes were sharp, unyielding. “But he escaped. Not whole. Not unbroken. But alive. And he’s been hiding ever since—waiting for you.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at the locket, my vision blurring at the edges.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he made me promise not to. Not until you were ready. Not until you had the Codex. Not until the bond was sealed.”
“And now?”
“Now he’s in danger.”
My blood turned to ice.
“Vexis knows,” Riven said. “He’s been using your father as leverage—threatening to expose him, to drag him back to the pyre, unless you surrender the journal. Unless you break the bond.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then he dies.”
The bond roared—a wave of heat crashing through me, pooling low, tightening, aching. My hands clenched at my sides. My fangs ached. My claws itched beneath my fingertips.
“You should’ve told me,” I said, voice low, dangerous.
“And what would you have done?” Riven shot back. “Ran to him? Left the mission? Got yourself killed trying to save a ghost?”
“He’s not a ghost.”
“No,” Kaelen said, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned. “He’s a weapon. And Vexis is using him to divide us.”
“Then we go to him,” I said. “We get him out. We protect him.”
“And walk into a trap?” Kaelen shook his head. “Vexis wants you to come. He wants the Codex. He wants the bond broken. He wants you dead.”
“Then I’ll die trying.”
“No.” He stepped into my space, his presence like a storm. “You don’t get to throw your life away. Not for him. Not for the mission. Not for anything.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do.” His hand closed around my wrist, hot and unyielding. “Because if you die, I die. And I’m not ready to burn yet.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I pulled away.
Not gently. Not slowly.
Like I was being torn away.
“Then stay behind,” I said, voice raw. “If you won’t fight for him, then stay. But I’m going.”
“You won’t go alone,” Riven said.
“You’re injured.”
“I’m still alive.” He stood, gripping his staff. “And I still have magic.”
Kaelen didn’t argue. Just stepped to the war table, his fingers brushing the sigil on the Codex—once, twice, three times—until it glowed faintly beneath his touch. “Then we go together.”
“It’s a trap,” I said.
“Then we spring it,” he replied. “And when Vexis shows his face, we rip his throat out.”
And then—
The bond flared.
Not a whisper. Not a plea.
A roar.
Heat crashed through me, pooling low, tightening, aching. My skin burned. My pulse spiked. The moonlight wrapped around us like a living thing, silver and hot, pulling us together like we’d been starved for years.
“Don’t,” I whispered, stepping back. “Not now. Not like this.”
“Then when?” he demanded, stepping forward. “When we’re bleeding in the dirt? When we’re chained in Vexis’s prison? When you’re lying in my arms, dying, and I finally say it?”
“Say what?”
“That I love you.”
The world stopped.
Not metaphorically. Not poetically. Stopped. The torches froze mid-flicker. The wind died. The moonlight hung in the air like dust.
And then—
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Not because I didn’t believe him.
Because I did.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
“You don’t love me,” I said, voice breaking. “You can’t. You don’t even know me.”
“I know you,” he said, stepping closer. “I know the way you fight like you’ve got nothing to lose. I know the way you kiss like you’re trying to burn me alive. I know the way you look at me like I’m already dead.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone again. “And I know this. The bond isn’t just magic. It’s not just fever. It’s not just need. It’s truth.”
“Then why now?” I whispered. “Why say it now, when we’re about to walk into a death trap?”
“Because if I die tonight,” he said, voice low, “I want you to know. And if you die, I want you to hear it before the end.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I stepped forward.
Not to fight.
Not to challenge.
To claim.
One hand slid to his chest, the other to the back of his neck. My breath was on his skin. My fang grazed his pulse point. And then—
I kissed him.
Not soft. Not tender. A collision. Teeth and tongue and fury. A challenge. A surrender. A claim.
He didn’t hesitate.
He kissed me back.
My hands slid up his back, into his hair, pulling him down. His growl vibrated through me, her body pressing harder, her thigh grinding against me. The bond exploded—magic and fang and fire, crashing through us like a tidal wave. The torches flared silver. The ground trembled. The moon above seemed to pulse in time with our hearts.
And then—
I broke the kiss.
Not gently. Not slowly.
Like I was being torn away.
“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” I said, pressing my forehead to his, my breath ragged, my eyes dark with need. “But not here. Not like this. Not until my father is safe. Not until the Codex is hidden. Not until Vexis is dead.”
“Then when?”
“When I know I can trust you.”
“You already do.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped back, my back straight, my face unreadable. But my breath came fast. My pulse fluttered at my throat.
And then—
I reached up, my fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone—one, two, three times—until it glowed faintly beneath my touch. Then I leaned down, my lips hovering just above his.
“Like this.”
And then I kissed him.
Not a collision. Not a claim.
A surrender.
His hands slid to my chest, into my hair, pulling me down. My growl vibrated through him, her body pressing into mine, her arms caging him in. The bond exploded—magic and fang and fire, crashing through us like a storm. The torches flared. The runes pulsed. The moonlight poured through the arched windows, wrapping around us like a living thing.
And then—
I broke the kiss.
Not gently. Not slowly.
Like I was being torn away.
“Sleep well, Alpha,” I murmured. “The war’s just beginning.”
He didn’t answer.
But as I turned and walked away, the Codex still clutched to my chest, his scent still on my skin, his heat still in my bones, his voice still in my ears—
I knew one thing for certain.
The mission wasn’t over.
But the enemy?
He wasn’t just across the table.
He was in my blood.
And for the first time since I’d walked into this cursed hall—
I wasn’t sure I wanted to destroy him.
Because what if the real enemy wasn’t Kaelen?
What if it was me?
And what if—
I didn’t want to be saved?
---
We left at moonrise.
No fanfare. No farewells. Just the three of us—me, Kaelen, Riven—cloaked in shadow, moving through the underbelly of the enclave like ghosts. The tunnels beneath Edinburgh were ancient, carved from black stone, their walls lined with glowing runes that pulsed faintly in the dark. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old blood, but beneath it—something else.
Fear.
Not mine.
Not Kaelen’s.
Their fear.
Every guard we passed—Fae, vampire, werewolf—tensed as we moved past. Not because they recognized us. But because they felt it. The bond. The power. The way the moonlight clung to us like a second skin.
And then—
We reached the border.
Not a gate. Not a checkpoint.
A rift.
Carved into the stone, its edges jagged, its depths shrouded in mist. The air was thick with magic, the kind that made your teeth ache, your bones hum. Beyond it—Fae territory. Vexis’s domain.
“He’s here,” I whispered.
“I know,” Kaelen said, his voice low. “But so are they.”
I didn’t need to ask who.
The shadows moved.
Not from the corners.
Not from the walls.
From within.
Fae guards. Unseelie assassins. Vampire sentinels. All cloaked in illusion, their presence like a blade wrapped in velvet.
“We go in quiet,” Kaelen said, drawing his dagger. “No magic. No noise. Just steel.”
“And if they see us?”
“Then we kill them.”
And then—
We moved.
Not with stealth.
Not with silence.
With purpose.
He went first—fast, precise, aiming a high kick at the nearest guard’s throat. I followed—low, silent—slashing across another’s ribs. Riven brought up the rear, his staff crackling with moonlight, his magic a low, steady hum. We moved like one, like we’d been fighting together for years. Parry. Strike. Spin. Kill. The bond flared with every motion, magic and fang and fire crashing through us like a storm.
And then—
We reached the prison.
Not a fortress. Not a dungeon.
A temple.
Carved from black marble, its arches high, its walls lined with silver filigree. The Seelie sigil glowed above the entrance—a crescent moon cradled in a rose. The air was thick with magic, the kind that made your skin burn, your bones hum.
“He’s inside,” Riven said, voice rough.
“Then we go in,” I said.
“It’s a trap,” Kaelen said.
“Then we spring it.”
And then—
The door opened.
Not by hand.
Not by force.
By magic.
A figure stood in the opening—tall, cloaked in shimmering silk, their face hidden beneath a veil of illusion. But I knew them.
I’d know that scent anywhere.
Smoke. Blood. Regret.
“Father,” I whispered.